Just want to sa youve got the rite idea -
As Grabber boast, this peotry is easy;
You simply count the sylables, and then,
Not bothering with speling, rime or sense,
Even the wet and weedy Molesworth Two
Or squashed-tomato Peason coudnt miss.
So welkum to the skool poetic club -
But watch for prowling beaks; as any fule kno,
Our noble (ha-ha!) masters luv to sneer:
“Rambow must be turning in his coffin!
Now, Molesworth, try agane - and make it rime!”
Last edited by Brian Allgar; 06-10-2013 at 01:02 AM.
Reason: Ooops - 'turning in his grave' didn't end with an N!
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